Chapter 1: The weight of poverty

Lea had learned from an early age that life wasn’t fair. Some children got new clothes, birthday parties, and fancy school supplies. She got hand-me-downs, leftover meals, and fights echoing through the thin walls of their small home.

Their house—if it could even be called that—was a cramped, one-room space with a leaky roof and a floor made of cracked cement. The scent of damp wood mixed with the ever-present smell of cheap cooking oil. At night, she pressed a pillow against her ears, trying to drown out her parents’ arguments about money. It was always about money.

“Why don’t you just find a better job?” her mother would yell, frustration thick in her voice.

“You think it’s that easy? I’m not like those people with college degrees!” her father would snap back.

And so it went—night after night. No matter how much Lea excelled in school, no matter how many medals she brought home, nothing changed. There was no reward for being a bright student when your family barely had enough to eat.

Her mother worked as a laundrywoman, taking in clothes from wealthier families in the neighborhood. Sometimes, they would give her old dresses or used shoes, which her mother would bring home like treasures.

“For you, Lea,” she would say, holding up a faded dress. “Just a few stitches, and it’ll be good as new.”

Lea would smile and nod, even as the dress smelled of someone else’s perfume. It was always like that—always someone else’s leftovers, always something used.

She had learned to lower her expectations. When her classmates talked about summer vacations, she stayed silent. When they showed off new school supplies, she looked down at her half-empty notebook. She had learned that wanting more was pointless.

One rainy afternoon, her teacher handed out awards for academic excellence. Lea stood in front of the class, holding her certificate with both hands, her name printed in bold letters. The applause was polite but unenthusiastic.

“You’re so lucky, Lea,” one of her classmates said. “You’re smart. You’re going to have a great future.”

Lea forced a smile but said nothing. If only being smart was enough to change things.

That evening, she placed the certificate on the small wooden table in their home. Her mother glanced at it, then at the pile of clothes she had to wash before morning.

“Good job,” she said absentmindedly. “Maybe one day, all this hard work will pay off.”

Her father barely looked up from his seat by the door, smoking a cigarette. “Smart or not, we’re still poor.”

Lea swallowed hard. She had dreamed of a moment where her achievements would make a difference, where her father would beam with pride and her mother would cry tears of joy. But dreams didn’t change reality.

She lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of rain dripping through the holes in the roof. She promised herself that one day, she would leave this life behind.

She just didn’t know how.

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